A quarter of an hour later they paused where the trail went n***d on the face of the rock.
"Wait, and when you come, come quickly," Mauriri cautioned.
He sprang into the blaze of sunlight, and from below several rifles pumped rapidly. Bullets smacked about him, and puffs of stone-dust flew out, but he won safely across. Grief followed, and so near did one bullet come that the dust of its impact stung his cheek. Nor was Hare-Lip struck, though he essayed the passage more slowly.
For the rest of the day, on the greater heights, they lay in a lava glen where terraced taro and _papaia_ grew. And here Grief made his plans and learned the fulness of the situation.
"It was ill luck," Mauriri said. "Of all nights this one night was selected by the white devils to go fishing. It was dark as we
